


A Formula, A Phrase Remains

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Comic Book Science, Extremis, Gen, Hand-wavy Canon, Post-Movie(s), Sad, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is not resigned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Formula, A Phrase Remains

**Author's Note:**

> Title and paraphrased summary from Edna St. Vincent Millay - Dirge Without Music.
> 
> I don't know whether to warn for this as character death or fix-it. Also, I'm assuming that IM3 will indeed involve Extremis, so this is set in a post-movie place where that change has happened already.

“Tell me again what he stole?” Tony asks, because he has to be missing something here. Even for Hill, this is burying the lead. 

She looks between them all, their sometimes-team of six. “Records.”

“You were hacked by one of your own science projects,” Tony says. “Which is the sort of thing that happens when you use consultants who aren’t me. Or Bruce, of course. But I don’t get why this is a-.”

“It wasn’t our project and we weren’t hacked,” Hill says. “These records were never stored on the servers - they were considered too sensitive.”

“They were too sensitive to keep anywhere they might be taken, and you just let Robby the Robot stroll right on in and steal them from under your nose and now you’re sending _us_ ,” Tony nods from left to right at the team, “to get them back.”

She stares at him unblinkingly, as though there was no question there. The six of them haven’t been together on a mission in nearly a year. In the intervening time, Tony has nearly died (again), injected himself with a highly-experimental bio-electronic virus, and basically upgraded himself into an even more awesome version. And still, this is the first time SHIELD has asked him to come in since.

Tony asks, “What the _hell_ was on those-.”

Fury interrupts. Fury always interrupts. He appears from a door that Tony is pretty sure is not on the Helicarrier blueprints and takes a path that walks him straight through the Avengers. He says, “Proof readings of our top personnel.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Fury looks to the heavens. “We had a theory, a few years back, that technology had got to the point where we might have to start being more careful with our ID-security. Between your LMDs, biotech masks that as good as guarantee facial recognition is a thing of the past... This is to say nothing of,” he carefully doesn’t look at Clint, “enemy induction of altered states.”

“Mind control,” Clint says dully. “You took mind-prints.”

Hill says, “We started investigating the possibility, yes. To see if they could be used to compare an agent’s current state with a known true positive. It wasn’t ready, before the Loki incident – we were trialling it to see if it might work.”

“And even if it did,” Clint says, “it wouldn’t have helped then. These would be to look for infiltration, right, not to fix-.” All the tech in the world can’t beat a beautiful woman punching you in the head.

“Exactly,” Fury says. “They have no use offensively.”

“So then why steal them?” Tony asks. 

“That would be what we need you to find out.”

Natasha looks at him, that way she has of silencing a room so she can speak, without so much as clearing her throat. “These prints were taken before the Chitauri invasion?”

“They were,” Fury says. “Shortly before.”

“Of senior personnel. Not field agents, but the higher ups. Level Seven?”

“Yes.”

“And were any of the existing prints wiped after the incident?”

“No.”

Of course they weren’t. In some ways SHIELD is the ultimate bureaucracy. They would never have thrown anything away they might have a use for later. Natasha knows that just about as well as anyone. Tony saw where she was going with this from the first question, but it takes the others a little longer. Tony still desperately wants to know what reason anyone could possibly have for stealing this. It wouldn’t mean anything to anyone but them.

 

*

 

Tony ignores the wreck of the robot way on the other side of the factory. Whatever was animating it, it’s gone now. A little too easily, in Tony’s book, but that’s for Steve, Clint and Natasha to hash out. Battle tactics and the success thereof are not his strong suit. Tony is more interested in the still blinking computer screen on the desk, and the silvery looking box hardwired directly to it.

“What the hell were they looking for?” he asks again. “Nothing they could get off a scan like this would mean a damn thing to a computer trying to read it. It’s basically a photocopy.”

Bruce says, “Even if they took a full brain scan, MRI, neuroimaging, we’re years off being able to actually read memories from them, or stored details, if they wanted access codes or classified information.”

Natasha looks at the box. “Depends what they used to make it.”

Thor leans close to examine it. “It would not be the first time our allies at SHIELD used a device beyond their understanding.”

“No,” Tony agrees, “and the big metal guy over there definitely shrieks of SHIELD playing with all the kinds of powers man shouldn’t be playing with.”

Natasha says, “I didn’t think that you believed in powers man shouldn’t meddle with?”

“I don’t.” Tony sits down in front of the keyboard and experimentally enters a command prompt. He tries to interface directly with the box, which hums at him. Extremis can talk to any computer in existence, so Tony doesn’t care what this box is, he can figure out a way to speak to it.

On the screen, three words appear.

_Hello, Mr Stark_.

“Okay,” Tony says, “that’s not ominous at all.”

He sends his reply straight to the computer: _Hello mysterious box_. 

_I think I was happier when my first name was Agent._

Tony stops and takes a slow breath. _Not so smart, if you think pulling a stunt like that is going to get you anything other than dumped in an acid bath._

_Tony. What did you_ think _was in the box?_

Steve asks, “Tony? What is it?”

“The brain scan is talking to me.”

“Who-?” Steve stands over Tony’s shoulder. He coughs. “Agent Coulson.”

“Yeah. So clearly our robot buddy _isn’t_ fried, and thinks that- what?”

JARVIS is talking to Tony, and then through the speakers on the armour. “Scan complete. No outside influence detected. Presence is contained within the device. Six inactive scans, one active and with control of communications. Hello, Agent Coulson.”

Someone who is not Tony inhales too fast.

On the screen, he watches the words form. _But you were right, Tony. I’m not him. Just an imprint._

Tony lets the armour do the typing for him; he says it out loud. “You know you’re...”

_I know that I’m dead, yes. I logged into the SHIELD network._

“Phil,” Tony says.

JARVIS’s electronic voice is soft. “Access granted.”

The words form on the screen a half-second before they are piped through the speakers. It’s not quite right, an understanding of Coulson’s voice memorised by JARVIS, who is the smartest AI Tony could build but who does not know Coulson the way they all do. The voice is lighter than it should be, tinged with a wry amusement. “Pass a message to the Director for me? They really need to up their security.”

“I keep telling them,” Tony says dumbly. “But nobody listens.”

“I suspect they might listen after this.”

Thor, who has been watching in increasing confusion, says in a burst, “If this is a final chance to speak to you in this realm, Son-of-Coul... You took my place in my brother’s vengeance. I should have acted in a way more-.”

“I read the report,” Phil says, voice pitched more normally now. “I think my choice was fairly clear.”

“I should not have left you to that fate.”

“You were dropped from a flying aircraft carrier,” he points out. “I didn’t get all the details, but it seems as though you tried your best.” There is a pause. “Tony,” he says. “Could I have the cameras for a moment please?”

“Jesus. Fuck, of course. JARVIS.” JARVIS gives Phil control of the visual sensors. The others can’t tell, of course, but Tony sees. Phil just pans from one side to the other, looking at the team. “Just where you left us,” Tony says, aiming for a joke.

“Not where I left you,” Phil says. “Where I wanted you to be.” He holds the cameras on Clint and Natasha, centred between Steve and Thor and looking... Tony has never wanted to see a thing happen that could make Natasha look so wide open. Phil doesn’t ask how Clint came back to them, so maybe he read that report, or maybe the print was taken before any of that happened, he just says, “There you are, Barton.” He sounds like he’s smiling, and Tony doesn’t know how JARVIS is making those kinds of determinations, but here they are. Listening to a ghost smile.

“Sir,” Clint says. “Hi.” After a moment, maybe deciding where to look, Clint smiles too.

So Tony is allowed to feel like he’s been punched when Phil says, “Tony, you need to wipe this now.”

“I- what? What the fuck?”

Phil is calm, and patient, and infinitely compassionate. “This isn’t real. It’s just an echo.”

“Echoes don’t talk.”

“They do if they’re bumping around an alien storage system with the Extremis virus and your AI. You need to turn this off.”

“Turn you off,” Tony says.

“I’m already off,” Phil answers. “This is just the static left on the screen. You know that. And I’m glad of the- I’m glad of the goodbye. I’m glad to be able to see you all. But you need to wipe this clean. They wanted this for a reason and even if it’s not real it can still do damage. I need you to do this.”

“I’m not-.” Tony turns to Bruce, looking for support. “You can...”

“I wouldn’t know how,” Bruce says, “not for something like this - it’s half memory and half code. It has to be you, Tony, I’m sorry.”

Steve comes to stand beside Tony. “If you can get it ready,” he says, “I’ll push whichever button you tell me to. I can do that.”

Phil says, “Thank you, Captain.”

Tony does not turn around, because he does not want to know which of his team members belongs to that choked noise. He closes his eyes and lets the code run along the inside of his eyelids. The keyboard isn’t necessary but it gives his hands something to do and in the end- it gives Steve a button to press.

The others whisper goodbyes but Tony has never known how to make one of those, even when he got there in time to give them. This is long past the time but he has nothing more to say. He asks, “Are you sure?” one more time.

_This isn’t alive_ , Phil projects, Tony’s eyes only. _This is a recording in a box._

Tony doesn’t think of that as an answer, but he knows Phil means it as one. He turns to look at Steve. “This button,” he says, and walks away. “Give me two minutes.”

JARVIS is still connected, so Tony has one last thing to do.

“Okay,” he says. He severs the connection. “Now.” 

Steve closes his eyes as though he’s praying. He presses the button.

 

*

 

“Sir,” JARVIS says. “Might I recommend-.”

Tony says, “No time for recommendations now, Daddy’s busy.”

“Captain Rogers is quite concerned that I-.”

Tony runs his hand over his face, noting distantly that he needs to shave, that he should shower, but he has work to do and not enough time to do it. They are alive and while they live there’s a fast clock ticking. 

Steve said once that Phil was the first soldier Tony lost. Phil wasn’t a soldier any more than Tony is. He had wanted to be, maybe, had loved Steve enough to wish to be a part of his army. But Phil had favourite stationery and was patient with Tony’s insubordination three times in seven and didn’t have the first idea about acceptable losses. Phil’s idea of the right thing to do started and ended with a spear through his chest, a battle he could never have won. There are all kinds of ways to die and live a hero.

“Density manipulation,” Tony says. “Because it’ll piss Loki off, little shit. What, like phasing through stuff is _hard_?” 

“I believe Loki excels in illusions of his physical form,” JARVIS observes, “not true intangibility.”

“Right, excellent, holographic projectors too. As long as it doesn’t have any PowerPoint functionality.”

“Sir?”

“And lasers. Some kind of weaponry. Tasers?”

“Are we designing a new suit?”

Tony laughs. Even he can hear the cracks in it but that’s immaterial, so far from relevant he can discard it without a second thought. Another feature of Extremis is the ability to sift through information, assembling the connections he needs. He can make the logical leap, build something that will leave its own echoes. Tony just needs to be put in front of a problem he can fix. “Yeah, JARVIS, we’re making a Suit.”

“How may I be of assistance?”

Tony thinks. This needs to be a secret. The others aren’t going to understand, not yet. Tony sees things more clearly. That was true before Extremis but it’s even brighter now. Tony makes phone calls without moving his lips, he hears through satellites. His mind matters. Everything else is just another kind of armour. He might need help eventually – some of this is beyond his usual definition of hardware. But for now... “Let’s keep this on the private servers, my eyes only.” Tony smiles. “Index it under VISION.”


End file.
